


Midnight Invitation

by Antares



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antares/pseuds/Antares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets an invitation. Now it’s for him to decide whether to accept it…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Cimmie for the beta!

It was past midnight. John Sheppard was jogging through the deserted hallways of the sleeping city. He was relieved not to have to live on a spaceship where “morning” and “evening” were only random definitions in a timeless environment. Here, on Atlantis, sunrise and sunset were clear markers everyone adhered to. And that meant he could be alone if he wanted to - or nearly alone.

John had found out a fortnight ago that Ronon Dex also used the quasi-emptiness of the city for a little exploring of his own. He had encountered him running around the corridors and outside on the piers. They greeted when they met – and that was it.

Until a week ago.

John had followed Ronon, out of curiosity, to see where he was going. And he had stumbled upon a … interesting sight.

Ronon had finished his jog on one of the balconies, leaning against the railing with one hand, and staring across the dark, mumbling ocean. His other hand had gone up and down on the outside of his leather trousers, directly over his groin area. Pressing and fumbling in a very unambiguous manner. Before Ronon could spot him, John had disappeared. Troubled.

Only to follow him the next day. And the day after. John couldn’t chase the erotic pictures from his mind. So he made sure to always find Ronon at the end of his nightly jog and watch him relieve some of the endorphins from running in his very unique manner.

Ronon would lean back against a wall and let his hands wander over his body, caress and tweak his nipples through his shirt. Or he would sit on one of the many stairs and let his fingers glide under the waistband of his trousers. The day before yesterday he had found him behind one of those omnipresent columns, leaning against it, his front pressed to the cold metal and rubbing his body in a not too subtle manner against his hand.

John hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away and had surprised himself by rubbing his erection through his pants in exactly the same rhythm as Ronon did. That was exciting, but with regard to the military code, totally wrong. And much too near to his secret, long denied wishes. Slightly shocked and a bit ashamed, John had refrained from his explorations for one night.

But today he had given in to his ache and curiosity – and a lot of feelings he wasn’t ready to face and name yet – and had resumed his habit. He tried to convince himself that he wandered aimlessly but his feet brought him to the section where he hoped to find Ronon.

Ronon heard him the moment he sneaked into the adjacent room, even if the doors on Atlantis made nearly no noise upon opening or closing. During the last years his senses had been trained to utter awareness. And he knew Sheppard’s footfall.

He smiled. Perfect. If Sheppard had followed him again, he was interested. Very interested. Tonight he would up the ante a little bit!

He had already divested himself of his boots and shirt and when he was sure that Sheppard was finally watching, he made a great show of standing before one of Atlantis’ open windows, flexing his muscles.

He murmured “Phhh, it’s so hot in here,” and turned and wiped his torso with his shirt.

“Damn leather trousers,” he complained and started unbuttoning them, wriggling a lot. The moment he started to pull them down in earnest, it was clear that he had gone commando. 

He stepped out of his trousers and let them fall carelessly to the ground.

John had waited for the usual groping and now this! He stared incredulously, unbelievingly, but totally aroused at the scene unfolding before his eyes.

Ronon resumed his walking around the room and spread his arms as if to invite the warm breeze from the ocean to cool him down.

“Much better.” He made sure that Sheppard got an eyeful of his body from all angles. It was similar to fighting for Sheppard or showing him his skills with weapons. It sort of continued their competition and playful rivalry.

He returned to the spot where he had dropped his garments and knelt down. He widened his stance, made sure to offer Sheppard full frontal nudity and began with the final phase of his seduction plan.

Inexorable, long restrained wishes welled up in John. He saw Ronon’s body glistening with sweat in the eerie light of Atlantis’ moon. Strong thigh-muscles, a flat stomach, a broad chest and a well defined biceps – John was sure the tall man would be able to make a fortune if he modelled for advertisement. Then he remembered why Ronon was in such an excellent form and reprimanded himself. A last glance to Ronon’s face – he had closed his eyes – and John allowed his eyes to travel back downwards, to the place where Ronon’s hands were. 

Caressing his naked body. Long, sensual strokes on the inside of his thighs with one hand, hasty, circulating motions with the other hand to tease the nipples.

John had to swallow hard. That was exactly how he had imagined the scene! Nearly against his will, his sub consciousness had supplied him, night after night, with images of how Ronon would look like without his clothes.

Gorgeous.

And now he had the proof. A perfect body and a cock that even half-aroused was very attractive and that he’d like to touch. John moaned inwardly when he recognized where his thoughts were guiding him.

Ronon’s palm made lazy, teasing circles, slowly zooming in on his dick. Sheppard watching him heightened his arousal. Lust and sex and getting off had been very solitary actions for the past years and it was stimulating to do it for someone else. Leisurely, without the ever present fear to be surprised. He continued stroking. But before he touched his dick, he stopped.

He had planned something else – the pièce de resistance, so to say. He had to grin inwardly, because he had learned this word only three days ago from one of the Canadian team-members. But it seemed appropriate for this situation.

The sight of Ronon touching himself in such intimate places made John moan softly. He bit immediately on the inside of his cheek to prevent further noises and pressed his forehead against the cool wall. He closed his eyes for some seconds, but he couldn’t cut off the sexy, panting sounds that came from the next room and so he had to watch again. Why only a radio play if he could have so much more?

And again his look wandered unmistakeably to the centre of Ronon’s body. Seemed, he was doomed. His dick twitched and without further thinking, John unzipped his pants and reached inside his boxers. He thought about soothing motions to calm down, but the moment his hand touched his heated flesh, he imagined Ronon’s hand touching him and he lost it.

His brain told him “guilty pleasure” but his dick told him “what the fuck” and so he tightened his grip and began to stroke. 

Ronon lay down on the heap of his clothes and made a little show to arrange himself. He showed off his nakedness because he knew that Sheppard was only four metres away. Able to watch every detail. His strong hands started moving again. This time he went for the grand finale. If he was right, Sheppard should be as ready as he was by now. He closed his fingers around his shaft.

For one second John thought that perhaps Ronon knew that he was here, because he was so conveniently placed for him to watch. But then he dismissed the idea. Why would he do something like that?

On the other hand, why not?

If he had a voyeuristic penchant who could tell that Ronon wasn’t an exhibitionist? Probably they complemented each other.

Then a terrifying certainty hit him. Ronon had been a runner for years – if he had allowed every Wraith to approach within a few meters without noticing him…

That… that … meant… oh my God!

John’s pulse raced. Nobody should know that about him!

For one second he wanted to flee, even had already turned around, when he came to the realization that it was too late. If Ronon knew that he was here, he also knew that he didn’t watch him for the first time. That this wasn’t a spontaneous fascination – but that he had searched for him - followed him.

Suddenly this game wasn’t single sided anymore.

John couldn’t prevent a tiny moan, arching desperately into his touch, augmenting the pressure of his hand.

Ronon had heard Sheppard’s tiny moan and felt more secure now. It dawned on him that it was just like in old times. He was masturbating and listening intently. But this time there was no danger and all his gestures brought lust. Not only for himself but also for the man in the next room. He had to admit, it was a very unusual approach but he had still trouble understanding what “proper behaviour” in the strict sense of the army was.

He hoped he had found an acceptable compromise. Deliberately, he didn’t look up to verify if Sheppard had left the shadow of the partition wall he was hiding behind. For a few minutes more, he granted him the illusion to be only an observer.

John appreciated that.

It was already disturbing enough to have sex with somebody who was a few meters away!

But then he had to grin. Wasn’t that typical for their whole situation here in this foreign galaxy? Things never turned out as planned. His career was the best example. So why not be finally open for new experiences? He decided to give Ronon a little encouragement.

Hesitating for another moment, he finally whispered, “Go ahead.” Now it was official.

Sheppard was ready! Triumph and satisfaction cursed through Ronon’s veins. He bent his legs slightly and placed his feet flat on the ground. Wanton – sprang to his mind, but it felt good. With one hand he cupped his balls with the other he continued the long, sensual strokes. 

Someday in the future John would tease Ronon about how professional he was about this whole seduction act. But for now John matched his movements to Ronon’s, getting into the same rhythm. He didn’t try anymore to conceal his loud breathing.

Being allowed to hear Sheppard’s lust rushed to Ronon’s head and made him loose his rhythm.

He changed to short, abrupt strokes, moaned deeply in his throat and panted breathlessly. He tightened his grip once more – and then it was over and he came. Half consciously half by coincidence he mumbled “John” while he fondled himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He heard a hasty rustling of clothes, a suppressed moan … then nothing. He gave Sheppard two, three seconds to gather his breath then he came back to the whole point of this midnight seduction. Because he knew how open, how vulnerable Sheppard must be at this moment, he was sure, to finally get the right answer to his question.

He sat up, leaned on one elbow and looked directly to where Sheppard was standing in the doorframe.

“You’ll join me tomorrow? Same time, same place?”

John looked at him. For the first time this evening their eyes met. John gave him a lopsided grin, still not entirely convinced that this was a good idea, but ready to try it. If he was able to live with the shocking knowledge of being constantly on the Wraith-menu, being open for other new experiences like trusting his feelings should be easy.

“Okay.”

\----THE END-----

 

©Antares, March 2006


End file.
